Infinitely Losing My Edge
Yeah, I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
The kids are coming up from behind.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids from Vanuatu and from Mumbai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Buzzcocks show in Bolton.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids whose footsteps I hear when they get on the decks.
I'm losing my edge to the internet seekers who can tell me every member of every good group from 1961 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong kids in little jackets and borrowed nostalgia for the unremembered nineties.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
I can hear the footsteps every night on the decks.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976 at the first Feelies practice in a loft in Haledon.
I was working on the snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald started up his first band.
I told him, "Don't do it that way. You'll never make a dime."
I was there.
I was the first guy playing Das Ding to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
Everybody thought I was crazy.
We all know.
I was there.
I was there.
I've never been wrong.
But I'm losing my edge to better-looking people with better ideas and more talent.
And they're actually really, really nice.
I'm losing my edge.
I heard you have a compilation of every good song ever done by anybody.
Every great song by The Gladiators. All the underground hits.
All John Foxx tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Tom Boy record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Pet Shop Boys record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Angry Samoans,
The Wake,
New Age Steppers,
David Bowie,
Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz,
Black Moon,
a-ha,
Arthur Verocai,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Throbbing Gristle,
Porter Ricks,
Blossom Toes,
Surgeon,
The Fortunes,
Oblivians,
DJ Style,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Cal Tjader,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Sex Pistols,
The Moody Blues,
Qualms,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
World's Most,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Yellowson,
Piero Umiliani,
Stockholm Monsters,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
The American Breed,
Warsaw,
Bootsy Collins,
John Foxx,
Whodini,
Lightning Bolt,
Joyce Sims,
Grauzone,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Young Marble Giants,
Scrapy,
Monolake,
Roxy Music,
Von Mondo,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Nick Fraelich,
Leonard Cohen,
The Alarm Clocks,
Visage,
Hasil Adkins,
Faraquet,
Gil Scott Heron,
Bauhaus,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
The Toasters,
Sight & Sound,
Heaven 17,
The Sound,
the Sonics,
Can,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Glenn Branca,
Robert Hood,
Hoover, Hoover, Hoover, Hoover.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.